Ice Cream Sunday
by karly05
Summary: When Heinz Doofenshmirtz gets a visit from his granddaughter, he has a fun surprise for her. A bit of fluff with Heinz and Felicia


**A/N – I've made some references to the relationship between these two, but really wanted to have some fun with them. I've never used any similar product, so this is not intended as a critique of anything actually advertised on television (although I'm sure we've all seen the commercials).**

**Doof and Vanessa belong to Povenmire & Marsh; Felicia is mine.**

Ice Cream Sunday

_Bzzt-bzbzbzbzt…Bzzt-BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!_

Heinz Doofenshmirtz was already on his feet before his doorbell had finished playing out the old 'Shave-and-a-Haircut' rhythm. Having made it past seventy meant that he wasn't as spry as he used to be, but it didn't stop him from gleefully rubbing his hands together and stifling a cackle as he caroled out, in as innocent a voice as he could muster, "Who is it?"

The answering voice, trying very hard to sound gruff and adult and failing adorably, came back through the door: "Pizza delivery!"

"Oooh, Pizza!" Heinz exclaimed with excessive excitement as he crossed the room. "I _love_ pizza! I hope you remembered to leave off the anchovies this time; you know, those little fish that nobody likes but the pizza place always puts on there, I don't know why they even _have_ those…" Pausing for a moment to force a straight face, he opened the door. "Okay, how much do I… Wait a minute!" Taking a step back and throwing his hands in the air, he reacted with astonishment. "You're not the Pizza Guy!"

The green-haired girl at his door burst into giggles. "_Noooo_, Grandpa Heinz! It's _meee_!"

"You really had me fooled that time!"

"No, I didn't." Felicia Fletcher shook her head at him with a wise look and a fond laugh. _So smart for only seven_, he thought, as his granddaughter hugged him around the waist and he gave her a squeeze back.

Vanessa stepped in behind her and put an arm around his shoulders as he greeted her with a, "Hi, Sweetie."

"Hey, Dad," she answered, dropping a kiss on his cheek. Then she turned to the little girl and said, as she always did, "Keep an eye on Grandpa Heinz. Don't let him blow anything up."

And Felicia, as she always did, gave that little mock-exasperated smile and rolled her eyes and said, "Mu-um!"

And Heinz, as he always did, huffed out in protest, "When was the last time I blew anything up?"

Vanessa pretended not to hear this and told them, "I'll be back in a few hours." Then she kissed Felicia's head and said, "Bye, Sweet Pea. Bye, Dad," and left.

Heinz stood in the doorway and watched her get into the elevator, watched the doors close, watched the numbers count down a few floors, before he turned to Felicia and said, in a conspiratorial tone, "She's gone." His granddaughter clearly knew he was up to something, but she didn't seem to know what, until he said, "Guess what came in the mail."

It took her another moment of thought, then her eyes lit up. "You got it?"

"It's in the kitchen. I haven't even unwrapped it yet, I was waiting for you." Felicia darted ahead of him to find the carton sitting on the counter. "Not so fast," he protested, trying to catch up to her. "Let me open it; where are the scissors?" The girl scrambled up onto a stool and perched on her knees as he found what he needed and cut through the tape. As soon as he pulled back the flaps of the outer carton, she reached in and lifted out the colorful box inside. It was covered with pictures of happy children eating delicious-looking scoops of ice cream from plastic cups. "AS SEEN ON TV" was emblazoned above their smiling faces. Grandfather and granddaughter were equally delighted by this awe-inspiring marvel. "It's not just ice cream," he quoted the commercial, and she chimed in with him as they proclaimed, "It's _Ice CreamAZING!_"

"Oh, thank you for getting it, Grandpa Heinz!" Felicia's face was shining. "Mum and Dad said it was silly, but I can't wait to try it."

"Neither can I," he chortled as he dug into the package and came out with the plastic containers. "Do you want the pink lid or the brown?" _Silly question,_ he realized, as Felicia turned up her nose at the pink and went straight for the chocolate color. _Just like her mother_. With great anticipation, they carefully assembled their ingredients and filled their containers as if conducting a scientific experiment.

"I need more chocolate syrup," said Felicia.

"You'd better leave some room for the cream," Heinz advised, "or you're just going to end up with chocolate milk."

She was the first to note, "There's not much room for the ice cream."

"Hm," he agreed, squinting into the cup, "there's _not_ much room, is there. Oh, well, we can always make more. We can make as much as we want. All right, is your lid on? It says we shake it for three minutes. Here, I'll set the timerinator." He put three minutes on the oven clock and hit start, then said, "Oh, I hope I didn't just push the self-destruct button."

"Grandpa Hei-inz," Felicia laughed at him. He was glad to know she liked a good running gag. As she began to shake her ice cream maker, she added, "Why would anybody put a self-destruct button on an oven, anyway?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," he replied, with a nostalgic grin. As he began to shake his own plastic cup, he went on: "You know, when I was your age, back in Gimmelshtump, we didn't even have ice cream. And I couldn't have eaten it anyway. I was lactose intolerant, and that is no fun, believe me. Now they have a cure and I can eat all the ice cream I want. Modern medicine, Felicia. It's amazing what they can do these days. How are we coming?" He glanced at the timer and answered his own question. "Still a couple of minutes."

The two of them shook and shook and shook some more until the timerinator went _ding!_ Eagerly they uncapped their containers. Inside each was a puddle of barely frozen, mostly milky liquid. "Maybe I did put in too much chocolate syrup," Felicia admitted.

"No, mine's the same," Heinz showed her his cup. "And I just put a little almond flavoring in mine. Maybe we need to shake it some more. Here, I'll put two more minutes on the clock."

Two minutes later, what was supposed to be ice cream was a slightly thicker but still runny pool of glop. "I think it needs more shaking," said Heinz.

"I'm tired of shaking," grumbled Felicia.

"It's all right, _strudel_, I'll do it for you." Grandpa took her cup and, one in each hand, began waving them like maracas, shuffling his feet and warbling out a wordless cha-cha. This made the little girl laugh, and thus encouraged, Heinz managed to keep this up for a couple of minutes before he panted, "All right. That had better be enough. Or I'm going to have to build a Shakerinator for this. " Staggering to the nearest stool, he handed her back the brown-capped cup and removed his own pink lid.

Felicia uncovered her chocolatey treat. It was still not very solid, but she tried a spoonful of it anyway. Heinz poked at his own mound of soft ice cream and asked her, "How is it?"

"Needs more chocolate syrup," she decreed. Stirring the miniscule amount in her cup, Felicia sighed. "It looked a lot better in the commercial."

With a sigh of his own, Heinz imparted one of life's greatest lessons: "It always does." Downing his three spoonfuls of almond-flavored ooze, he set aside the cup. Felicia, drinking hers like a milkshake, drained the last dregs of chocolate and regarded the empty vessel with a look of disappointment. This made him feel all the worse – until he remembered something.

"You know – one time, a long time ago, I accidentally built a giant ice cream sundae maker." When Felicia reacted to this with a half-hearted giggle, he said, "No! No! I really did! It's probably still down in the basement somewhere. Come on," he motioned to her as he got to his feet. "Let's go find it. We'll fire that puppy up," he promised, putting an arm around her as she joined him. "And then we'll have some _real_ ice cream!"

THE END


End file.
